Shelterverse Oneshots
by Queenie Mab
Summary: Atonement: After recovering his Oracle and settling into his job as camp director, Apollo realizes something he's always taken for granted is missing. Devotion: Will looks forward to some special plans with Nico. If Apollo would stop grossing him out, he could enjoy his 15th birthday. Fulfillment: Rachel's self-doubts are eased when Reyna shows her just how desireable she is.
1. Chapter 1

**Atonement**

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and themes are the property of Rick Riordan from the world of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I am not making any money from this work of fiction. I'm just playing around in his sandbox.

This is the first of three short fics that take place after Shelter: 10933494/1/Shelter-A-Solangelo-Novel - I am hard at work planning the novel-length sequel. Please follow me if you want to be notified about updates! I can also be found on tumblr as Mab-speaks. Tell me what you think about my fics in reviews, pms or by tumblr ask! I'm always happy to meet new people who share the love of PJO!

XxxX

Apollo pushes his spaghetti around his plate with his fork though his mind is far away from his food. The dining pavilion is full of laughter as the year-round campers eschew the assigned seating and are mostly grouped around the Hermes and Apollo tables. He has no problem with that. The past month since his Oracle has been healed has been a real joy for him, though he does wonder if Zeus knew that he'd love being here and that's why he'd only made him camp director for the off-season. He sets down his fork and pushes his plate away, watching the campers enjoying each other's company.

It makes sense they're grouped around his and Hermes's tables. In all the years he's spent watching the mortal world, and how the Olympian gods interact with it, one of the problems he's noticed is that most of the gods are ashamed of how dependent their powers are on their mortal children. He and Hermes have a small competition going, to see which of them can father the most demigods without Zeus catching on and prohibiting it altogether. So far, he thinks Hermes is winning, but it doesn't really bother him. As a messenger god, Hermes has ample opportunities to sow his seeds, so to speak, but Apollo's pretty sure he's not terribly far behind.

Chiron pushes himself away from the head table, nodding to him before heading back up to the big house. He's spending more and more time in his chair. Apollo wonders if Chiron's old wound is acting up again, even after Hermes had called him back from Tartarus on Zeus's orders and restored him. Back then, Chiron had been accidentally struck by Hercules and crippled with an eternal leg wound. The pain was so great he'd chosen Tartarus to lessen his suffering, and exchanged his immortal life to free Prometheus. As Chiron's adoptive father, Apollo pleaded his case with Zeus to recall him. He'd explained the stipulations Zeus had set for Prometheus's release were now met, and wouldn't it be a great idea if Chiron was restored? It would make Zeus look like the bigger man, and he wouldn't have to worry about the demigod heroes being trained by subpar instructors. Those were the days, back when Zeus had the capacity to listen to reason.

But Zeus's fears have grown over the millennia. His toxic marriage to Hera has sown more pain over the entire world than even the Titans had brought upon it. Zeus has been so afraid of the Oracle, he's crippled himself and his brothers, perhaps without even realizing how badly. Taking the vow not to have demigod children has to be the stupidest thing he's ever done. It goes completely against the nature of the gods, and the children the big three do have – being unable to keep their vow – are more powerful than they would be if Zeus had just accepted his true nature. If there's one thing Apollo's learned from being the custodian of the Oracle and watching over his demigod children, it's that trying to escape your fate because you've heard a prophecy – which might not even mean what you think it means – is the dumbest thing a person could do. It's so much more productive, and seriously, even fun, to just be who you are – to develop your talents, to share them with your children, to pass on your learnings to the next generation.

It's time for the campfire. Apollo stands up and makes the announcement, delighted to shove his thoughts aside and lead the way to the fire pit, guitar in hand.

After leading the sing-along for a few songs, he turns the musical accompaniment over to his kids and sits back to enjoy just being part of the group for a while.

He shivers. It's the oddest sensation. He's always felt the warm weather was drawn to him, figuring it started after he'd adopted the sun gig from Helios, but for the past month – after getting his Oracle back, and figuring out how to do this whole 'camp director' thing – the warmth has been missing.

He spots his son, Will Solace, across the fire, sneaking his hand out of his hoodie pocket and finding Nico di Angelo's hand in the dark. Those two are too freaking cute. He approves of their budding relationship, even to the point of distracting Chiron whenever he starts considering forbidding them alone time in the cabins. Apollo's not an idiot. He knows what's going on with them, but who is he to spoil young love? He pretends to be oblivious to how Will's bed is sometimes unslept in during the morning check. He makes a mental note to clue them in to the fact that they aren't as clever at covering their tracks as they think they are, before Dionysus returns for the spring and summer.

The spring. His mind wanders to the Oracle's spring, now unfettered by the monster, Python. He grins at her new form as part of Will's staff. She seems to be fond of watching the campfire, and of offering constructive criticism to his children on their musical arrangements.

He recalls the last time he'd felt the comfort of a warm breeze had been the moment before Daphne had arrived, and he was praising Will for a quest well led. _A warm breeze_ ... He stands up, realization smacking him like a fist to the face. The singing stops. All the campers turn their eyes on him.

He brushes their concern off with a broad smile and a laugh. "Sorry, folks. I was just hit by a jolt of inspiration and I have to chase it to its finish. Chiron, can you make sure everyone's in by curfew?"

The greying centaur nods, stroking his thickened beard. He's gotta jet before Chiron looks at him too closely. There's a score he needs to settle, once and for all, and the first person he needs to find is Eros.

XxxX

How could he have been so slow to catch on? He thinks back to all the times he and Zephyros have crossed paths over the years. The time before the Hyacinthus debacle, Zephyros had been a breath of fresh air at parties on Olympus. He'd always spotted when Apollo was having daddy troubles and distracted him from them with his flighty antics. He remembers how much he'd felt betrayed when Hyacinthus died; he'd lost more than one friend on that day. And yet, even though he'd held onto his righteous anger for the god of the West Wind, he'd always been there, in the corner of Apollo's eye, never approaching, but always a comforting presence. He's just never realized how much of a presence that had been until it vanished.

"Eros?" Apollo calls out. The ruins of Salona aren't easy to navigate, but after passing through to the courtyard of Eros's concealed palace, Apollo senses his divine presence nearby. He picks his way down flagstone paths, passing beds of flowers and trees that would be past their prime were they back in the States. He spots Eros sitting on a low stone wall, apparently laughing to himself. His golden bow and arrows are slung over his shoulder, and his brilliantly white wings are tucked out of the way.

"Apollo!" Eros calls out. "We've been expecting you. You're late, you realize?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He looks around. The place is deserted. "I'm looking for Zephyros."

Eros's red eyes flash knowingly. "You're forbidden from hurting him. He's under my protection. But, yes, my brother and I were just discussing the fact that you'd turn up asking about him one of these days."

Apollo freezes at the mention of Eros's brother. As the son of Aphrodite and Ares, Eros has many brothers. Apollo doesn't sense Phobos or Deimos lingering nearby, so this brother must be one of the other love gods, the erotes: Himeros, god of lust, Pothos, god of yearning or – Apollo swallows hard – Anteros, the god of requited love, the only one of them that he has never been able to see. As he can't see anybody sitting beside Eros on the wall, he figures it's him.

"All the same, where can I find him?" Apollo asks, feigning bravery. His sister has always reminded him he's afraid of facing his destiny, but knowing how bad Zeus has it out for him, he doesn't figure she can honestly blame him for that.

Eros narrows his eyes. "What do you want with him? He's not very happy with you at the moment. If I were to tell you how to find him, and then discover you have harmed a single feather on his wings, my revenge will be fierce."

The threat gives him pause. He's already felt the sting of Eros's revenge … for eons. But he must admit that Eros does seem to be offering him another chance. He'd allowed Daphne's heart to soften after all, though now Apollo knows for sure she's not the one he longs for.

"I understand," he says, swallowing his anger at the threat. It won't do any good to push Eros's buttons. "I want to thank you, too, for going easy on me ... with Daphne ... after all these years."

Eros laughs again. The trees and shrubs shake in their beds.

Apollo glares at him. "What's so funny?"

Eros clears his throat and stands up, making Apollo fight the urge to take a step backwards. Strangely, Eros's tone is soft, almost sympathetic. "It wasn't my idea to let up on you; that was Zephyros. He said he was tired of watching you crash and burn, and wouldn't it be charitable for me to even the playing field? I figured you'd crash and burn on your own anyway, so I granted the request." He shrugs. "Walk with me. Let's talk, then I _may_ tell you where you can find our flighty friend."

XxxX

Chapter 2 coming soon


	2. Chapter 2

It's been ages since Apollo's visited the crumbling ruins of what used to be Diocletian's palace, but according to Eros, this is where Zephyros has been slumming. He makes his way under the low archways, down narrow passages, sensing another divine presence in the cavernous room up ahead.

The stripes of sunlight shining in through the barred windows make the room, the cellar, feel more like a prison than a place worthy of a god's dwelling. He spots Zephyros from across the room. Apollo glances down to make sure he's still invisible, and then spends a couple of minutes studying him.

Zephyros is perched on a window ledge, his black hair windswept and tousled. He's dressed in black jeans and a Camp Half-Blood hoodie, his russet wings bent and sticking out under the hem. He rolls an unripe pear with his bare foot atop the dirt-caked floor, humming a melancholy tune Apollo recognizes at once.

Apollo's stomach squirms. The idea that the Hades kid – all right, there's no reason to pretend he doesn't remember his name – Nico di Angelo, had told him: Zephyros is depressed. He'd accepted his punishment, is convinced he deserves it. Apollo can't help think that such a beautiful and normally gentle god shouldn't be so sad. It shatters a small piece of his heart.

"Mad World," Apollo says, finally stepping out of the shadows, sending his light across the dirt-encrusted floor. "Such a sad song for a beauty like you to be singing."

Zephyros narrows his eyes, frowning, but he gives Apollo his full attention, straightening his posture and adjusting his grip on the window ledge. "I wasn't singing; I was humming. What brings the Sunshine King to _my_ humble abode?"

Apollo pauses. He's not used to being talked back to, except by Artemis, but she's a special case. Though, hearing the thinly veiled contempt in Zephyros's melodious voice bothers him more than he thinks it should. It's not fury he's feeling; it's something else entirely – hurt, perhaps? "Why do you talk to me like that?" Apollo asks.

Zephyros merely raises an eyebrow and shrugs, but he doesn't look away. Apollo can sense Zephyros's heart beating more fiercely, the cacophony of emotions swirling around in his chest. The distant memory of Zephyros's despair when he realized Hyacinthus was dead, fills his mind. Apollo had been too distracted to smite him – looking up too late – discovering Eros enfolding him in his wings.

"You've watched me for a long time," he says, stepping closer, waiting for a reaction from the mask Zephyros has made of his face. He realizes Zephyros is deliberately hiding his emotions, not out of fear, but because he feels he deserves Apollo's wrath. And that's just too sad. "When you fell in love with Hyacinthus …" He gets a small response at the name – a twitch of the cheek. "… Were you in Sparta to see him originally, or did you only spot him after you heard I was there?"

Zephyros's mask slips a little more, his cheeks starting to pink. "Don't flatter yourself. I admit you're easy on the eyes, but …" He makes a funny hand gesture that Apollo guesses means he's only so-so in Zephyros's book, but it's so half-hearted, he sees for what it is – a lie.

"Tell me," Apollo says, voice still soft, stepping closer until only a few feet separate them.

Zephyros glares at him, though his eyelashes are damp. "But, I know when somebody is out of my league, okay? Look, you got what you wanted. I've faithfully served Eros all these years, forbidden from _soiling_ another youth. I amuse myself – flirt here and there in dreams – but I don't take it too far …" He stops mid-sentence, inhaling sharply. There's hurt, pure anguish radiating off him. Apollo doesn't even need his healing powers to sense it.

"Yes?" Apollo says. He's still not rising to the bait. His heart twists curiously. He longs to mend the sorrow he senses, to wipe away Zephyros's tears and put a smile back on the face that was clearly made for smiling. "I won't hurt you," he promises, wondering what is wrong with his own head. A quick self-diagnosis tells him he means what he says. He wonders if what Zephyros has to say may be exactly what he needs to hear. "I won't further your suffering, no matter what you tell me, so long as it's truthful."

Zephyros scoffs. "I know how good you Olympians are at keeping promises. Forgive me if I don't …"

Apollo lifts his hands, surrendering. "I swear it on the river Styx. Please, tell me my wrongs."

Zephyros's mask slips entirely, his fingers gripping the window ledge so tightly his knuckles are white. "I already accepted the blame for what happened to Hyacinthus, but you … you never find fault in yourself when you screw over your conquests. Look what happened to Daphne, to Cassandra, to Coronis, to Castalia, and countless others … It's like you're more angry with them for seeing your true nature and trying to run, than looking in at what's really going on. You take it out on them. It's a real shitty cop-out."

It hurts to hear the aversion in Zephyros's voice, but the anger that normally springs up when he's insulted is just not rising. It's intriguing. He wonders at what he's heard. What _is_ really going on, as Zephyros put it? The fact that he mates with mortals? The idea he isn't able to settle down with any of them? How is that any different than any of the other gods? Again, Nico di Angelo's voice niggles at the back of his mind.

__"I spoke to Anteros … He said there was hope you'd meet him one day."__

It must be the fact that he's never loved and been loved in return in any of his couplings that Zephyros finds distasteful. Truthfully, _he's_ always found it distasteful as well, but his luck with women sucks. Well, with men too, really. The mortals he'd come closest to finding requited love with were Hyacinthus and Cyparissus, (though, Apollo suspects the latter boy cared more for his stag than for his lord.) Could it be that he's been looking in all the wrong places and missing what was right before his eyes? He approaches Zephyros until only a few inches separates them. "Have you really been watching me so closely all these years?"

Zephyros's face reddens, but even as he appears to shake in anger, Apollo sees through his ruse. He's hit on a truth that's been hidden in plain sight for Hestia knows how long – Zephyros _desires_ him. He'll deal with the rest of his complaints later, but for now, Apollo needs to hear him speak the truth.

"If you keep your wings bent like that, they're going to stay that way."

All right, it's not the most refined way of lightening the mood, but something has to give. He can't stand to see Zephyros in this miserable cellar a moment longer.

Zephyros glares up at him. "What's it to you?"

Apollo moves faster than Zephyros expects. He picks him up and hoists him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his wings trapped by his hoodie.

"What the – Apollo! Don't you make me call for my master. Don't forget what happened last time –"

Apollo smacks his butt, smiling at the high-pitched yelp and aroused inhale he gets in response. He chuckles. "Don't be ridiculous. You think I'd come to fetch you without clearing it with Eros first?"

He feels Zephyros relax in his arms – he's still got what it takes to sweep a lover off their feet. They disappear in a burst of gold and rematerialize exactly as he'd planned. He sets Zephyros on the edge of his bed and backs away a few feet, shrugging out of his tank top.

His gamble pays off. Zephyros takes in the roomy bachelor pad Apollo keeps on Delos, eyes finally fixing on Apollo's bare chest, and there's no hiding the hunger in his gaze.

Apollo waves his hand at the stereo system and music fills the room. Zephyros gives him an amused grimace. "Bonnie Tyler, seriously? Are you stuck in the 1980s again?"

Apollo doesn't bother answering. He leans forward and wrestles Zephyros out of his hoodie, revealing his chest – small brown nipples standing erect – his wings free and lifted, pointing back.

"Hey, it's November!"

Apollo runs his hands over Zephyros's chest and down his stomach, exhilarated by the goosebumps rising under his palms. "Would you like me to warm you up?" he asks, shooting him his most charming smile.

"Is that a trick question?" Zephyros raises his eyebrows, his face, a picture of skepticism. "Don't even play with me, Apollo. Tell me you didn't bring me here to –"

Apollo doesn't let him finish. He climbs up Zephyros's body and shuts his mouth with a tongue-filled kiss. Zephyros melts under it, returning the kiss with the sort of desperate hunger that makes Apollo simultaneously want to feed it, and do a private victory dance in his mind.

His arousal stirs, jeans tight, and he longs to get closer, to touch more skin. He's itching to climb over Zephyros until they are joined, and empty his balls into a body that can take his full load. He moans into Zephyros's mouth.

Zephyros gasps, breaking free to catch his breath, his hands in Apollo's hair. "You kiss like a devil."

Apollo grins down at him, meeting his dancing eyes, more relieved than he cares to admit at seeing Zephyros smile again. "I fuck like one too." There's no sense in not making his intentions clear. He's going to pound this beautiful god into his bed and find out, once and for all, if the flames rising inside him are anything more than kindling fire, quick to burn and quick to die.

Zephyros's eyes grow dark with desire. He spreads his wings, feathers trembling as though he wants to pounce, but holds back out of fear. "My ... My master. I haven't ... I'm sworn..."

Apollo runs his hands over Zephyros's wings, down to the join where they sprout from his back, soothing him. "I've taken care of everything. Made a deal with Eros." He drops his hands to Zephyros's waistband, unbuttoning his jeans, massaging him through the fabric.

Zephyros drops his head back, his feathers displayed, rocking his hips against Apollo's hand.

"Gods, you're beautiful," Apollo can't help but exclaim.

Zephyros opens his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. Apollo shivers as Zephyros combs his fingers through Apollo's hair, pulling his hips closer, his legs wrapped around Apollo's hips. A streak of fire runs up his spine, and he can't wait any longer.

He stands and drops his jeans. Zephyros's eyes fix on his erection, burning with anticipation.

He pushes Zephyros back onto the bed, his wings vanishing from sight, and yanks his pants off his narrow hips. He climbs on top of him, pressing their chests together, taking his mouth in another breath-stealing kiss.

"This ... ahh ... doesn't seem quite as devilish as I was expecting."

Apollo pulls back a little, then sucks a couple of his own fingers into his mouth, eyes dancing as the flush on Zephyros's face spreads down his chest. He works his hand between their bodies, tapping gently against Zephyros's hole.

"This more like it?" Apollo asks, but doesn't give him a chance to answer. He claims his mouth again, and works him open with his fingers. He can't wait much longer, breaking the kiss, and working his way down from neck to chest, latching onto a pebbled nipple.

Zephyros arches into Apollo's face, breathing short and fast. "Apollo," he moans. Apollo lifts his head and looks up at him, grinning like the devil he knows he is. "I've never had ... been ... years and years ..." He chokes out, grinding back on Apollo's hand, his body begging despite whatever protests he's trying to make.

But the message finally filters through Apollo's lust. "Never been on the receiving end?" He bites his lip to keep from moaning at how much the idea thrills him. This god, this beautiful, blustery, flirtatious gem of a god is going to give himself over to Apollo in a way no other has had before.

"Yeah," Zephyros says, his voice quivering."Never trusted ... And then ..."

He falls silent.

Apollo thinks his brain might explode. He nudges at Zephyro's entrance with his cock, distracting him with another searing kiss, and then pushes inside.

He's filled with heat, pure distilled desire fueling his thrusts. He catches every gasp and moan in his mouth, smiling against Zephyros's lips while surrendering to the need, the frantic urge to connect and reclaim the pieces he'd not been aware were missing.

As Zephyros shudders and shakes below him, Apollo crushes him closer still with his strong arms, sweat-slick and needy. His mind explodes in a flash of white, the fire of the sun fed by the oxygen-rich breath of the wind. Zephyros follows him over the edge, coming between their bodies in a messy spill of perfection and it's all Apollo can do to stay conscious. He rests his head on Zephyros's sticky chest, listening to the thundering beats of the heart underneath, content for the first time in what feels like forever when warm arms circle his back, and hands smooth over his sweat-damp hair and neck.

It could be minutes or hours later when Apollo opens his eyes in surprise, buoyed upwards as Zephyros spreads his wings, flipping them over so Apollo is the one being crushed into the mattress. He looks up, the smile still stuck on his face. Zephyros pushes himself up, wings spread wide, fanning a warm breeze across Apollo's skin, so goosebumps rise under the drying sweat on his chest. Zephyros's eyes burn with hunger when Apollo meets them, then shift, following the taut muscles of Zephyros's chest and abs to find his cock fully erect and ready to go again.

A shiver of panic flashes through Apollo's nerves, but the sensation of Zephyros's gentle fingers chases it away like an afterthought.

"I've dreamed of this, Apollo," he says, his lilting voice suddenly strong and sure, determined. "But before the dream comes to an end, I want to drink my fill of you." Apollo squirms under the unfamiliar sensation of Zephyros's slippery fingers working him open.

He's never been on the receiving end either, not, he thinks, because he's never wanted to, but because the way things have always been have dictated that as the more powerful entity, it was below his station. He shifts his hips back, drawing those fingers deeper inside himself, longing, wanting. Zephyros had given himself over to Apollo for the first time; it's only fitting with the changing of the times, with their fresh start, that Apollo would do the same.

"Do it, Zephyr," he moans, biting his lip. "Take all of me."

With a wicked grin, Zephyros does just that.

XxxX

Afterwards they lie tangled together, faces close, sharing a pillow.

Apollo is pushing his luck with time. He needs to return to camp before his absence starts people talking. The last thing he needs right now is for Zeus to catch news that he's flaunting his punishment. But the warmth he finds in Zephyros's embrace is too good to just leave. He worries his lower lip.

Zephyros quirks an eyebrow at him. "What's going on in that hot head of yours? Trying to work out how to ditch me without sounding like a douche?"

Apollo furrows his eyebrows, confused by the easy smile on Zephyros's face when he suggests such a thing. He's not very good at this at all if Zephyros thinks he's in any way ready for their tryst to end.

He focuses on keeping his eyes serious, controlling his racing heart. What if Zephyros has had his fill and is ready to move on and catch up on all he's been missing now that his enslavement has been lifted?

"No," he says. "I need to return to Camp Half-Blood. Zeus will have kittens if he finds out I've been gone so long." It hurts to see the flash of disappointment cross Zephyros's face, masked just as quickly with practiced ease. "I want you to come with me," he says, surprising himself at how earnest he sounds.

Zephyros laughs, disbelief and sarcasm pouring off him in waves – his defense mechanisms. "What's got into you? Apollo, I've known you for _ages_. You've _never_ invited a lover home with you before."

Apollo traces the line of Zephyros's jaw with the side of his hand. "Isn't it obvious?" he asks quietly, hoping his eyes are as soft and honest as he's feeling. He's head over heels gone for this stupid wind god. Does he have to spell it out?

Zephyros blinks, then searches his eyes, apparently trying to read the truth in them. They darken with a sort of dominating heat that makes Apollo shiver. After a minute he responds. "Wonders never cease. If I say no, what happens? Do I go back to being Eros's errand boy, the deal's off? Is it an all or nothing offer?"

"No. You're free to refuse me if that's what you want. I've talked to Eros and he's agreed to release you from his service. Your time is served."

Zephyros's eyes widen impossibly as understanding hits him. They soften again into their normal easy state, his lips spreading into a genuine smile. "I'd love to come with you. I've always enjoyed visiting the camp. It sounds like a lot of fun."

Apollo wipes his silly smirk off by kissing him again, pulling their bodies closer, desire rising up inside him all over again. "Let's make a game of it. See if we can fuck in every room of the big house without getting caught?"

Zephyros chuckles against his shoulder. "You're on."

The End of Atonement

Stay tuned for Solangelo in Devotion (4 chapters)


	3. Chapter 3

**Devotion**

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and themes are the property of Rick Riordan from the world of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I am not making any money from this work of fiction. I'm just playing around in his sandbox.

This is the second of three one-shots that take place after Shelter: 10933494/1/Shelter-A-Solangelo-Novel - I am hard at work planning the novel-length sequel. Please follow me if you want to be notified about updates! I can also be found on tumblr as Mab-speaks. Tell me what you think about my fics in reviews, pms or by tumblr ask! I'm always happy to meet new people who share the love of PJO!

XxxX

For the first time since he'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, Will is thankful his birthday falls during the off-season. Before, he'd always lamented not having all his siblings around to celebrate, to wake him with a song and a pile of presents, as they always do to the ones lucky enough to have been born in the summer months. But this December 15th, not having a million siblings wishing him a happy birthday and following him around camp like a party in motion is a godsend. He and Nico have plans for the day, and that night … Will stretches languidly in his bunk, a shiver of anticipation running the length of his spine … they're going to indulge in something he hasn't done in a couple of years, not since Pollux left camp. His heart speeds up at the thought, his fingers tingling.

He turns over and stares at his alarm clock. It's 5:30 in the morning; he doesn't need to be awake for another hour. He can hear the half-dozen Apollo year-rounders still snoring softly. He's tempted to get up and take care of his morning wood in the shower, but the thought of saving it, of waiting until he and Nico are alone … He bites his lip to stifle the moan rising in his throat, palming his groin. He might just die if he keeps thinking about it. Better to get up and go for his morning run an hour early than to lie here sweating and aroused with his brothers and sisters mere feet away.

That thought decides it. He throws his blankets off, his arousal waning in the chilly air, and climbs out of bed to dress.

XxxX

He's just rounded the canoe lake for the fourth time when a crash coming from the boys' showers catches his attention. He jogs over to see what caused it, pulling the shoulder strap of his doctor's bag so it shimmers into existence, ever ready to treat a possible injury.

He's about ready to call out if somebody's been hurt, when he stops dead.

"Zephyr, yeah … harder, babe," a familiar voice echoes off the tiled walls, followed by the sounds of wet slapping flesh. It's his father. And Will really doesn't want to see this. He turns, and catches sight of what's going on in the scratched, toothpaste-splattered mirror.

A god with russet-colored wings and shoulder-length black hair is pounding his father into one of the low dividing walls of a shower stall. Apollo holds onto the top of the wall for dear life, his eyes closed and mouth gaping – entirely blissed out.

Will backs out of the room, holding his breath. He takes in deep gulps of cold air when he's a safe distance, sure the horror of what he's just witnessed is frozen on his face. It's not that he doesn't know his dad fucks around, but walking in on it, or really, just even thinking about it … He shudders, suddenly aware of how cold it is, now that the heat from running has worn off, and his sweat cools in the wintry air.

He heads back towards cabin 7, but makes a split-second detour to cabin 13 when the name his father called out finally clicks into place. His father is screwing Zephyros? His former bitter rival? How did that even happen?

It takes three bouts of knocking before Nico finally opens his cabin door, sleep groggy and unamused. Will's heart stutters at the sight; he's beyond gaga for this rumpled and grumpy son of Hades.

Will pushes his way in and closes the door, resting his back against it, shaking his head.

"What do you want, Solace?" Nico demands, his hands on his hips. He's wearing black boxer shorts and Will's missing orange hoodie. It hangs so low on him, only a sliver of his boxers shows underneath, and Will couldn't keep from smiling at the sight if he tried.

"It's my birthday," Will says, trying to remember why he came in. Nico looks so good, he can't focus.

"And?" Nico grumbles, raising a thick black eyebrow in irritation.

He remembers what he'd just witnessed and seizes on it. "And, I've just been traumatized!" He flings himself into Nico's arms, which sort of doesn't work very well, as Nico has to prop him up lest he lose his balance.

"Fine, fine. Get off, giant. We can talk on the bed."

Will releases him reluctantly. He's aware of how idiotic he must look banging on Nico's door – when he knows full well Nico doesn't get up until ten – to tell him all about walking in on his father having sex. But, considering Nico hasn't thrown him out or punched him unconscious, he's not going to back away now. He follows Nico to his new bed. They've spent the last couple of weeks redecorating the Hades cabin and now it has two queen-sized beds with storage drawers underneath, one for Hazel when she visits. Nico chose white linens to counter the obsidian walls. He looks so small and adorable curled up in bed – his black hair striking against the white pillowcase. He's covered to his shoulders with a white feather duvet – like a wee little angel sleeping on a cloud. Will knows better than to tell him that; he'd likely pitch a fit and drown himself in black if he did.

He climbs onto the bed and lies down so they're facing each other.

Nico glares at him from under his bangs. "Traumatized how?" he mumbles. He sounds like he's only a few minutes away from dozing off again.

"You know Zephyros? What I am talking about, of course you know him; he's the one that gave you the vaccine he stole from Asclepius."

"What about him?"

Will raises an eyebrow. He's learned to read Nico in the time they've been together, and something about his tone of voice makes Will wonder if he knows more about what's going on with Apollo and the god of the West Wind than he's letting on, and that makes Will wonder why he's not said anything.

Will reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind Nico's ear, then leaves his hand resting on his shoulder. "I just saw him fucking my dad's brains out in the boys' showers."

Nico snorts.

"It's not funny. It was horrible." Will can't help but relax under Nico's sleepy gaze, but still, he wonders … "Why aren't you surprised by that? You knew about it?"

Nico sighs. He shrugs until Will's hand falls to his face. He rubs it with his slightly-stubbly cheek. The roughness distracts Will, and he moves the back of his hand up and down, relishing the sensation. His own face is still soft and hairless, but the idea of Nico shaving his face thrills him more than he wants to admit.

"Will?" Nico says, drawing him out of his introspection.

"Yeah?"

Nico rolls his eyes. "I swear you're getting more and more scatterbrained lately. I said, yes. I knew Zephyros was staying with your dad, but they swore me to secrecy."

Will frowns, withdrawing his hand. He scoots closer to Nico so their noses are only separated by a couple of inches. "Why?"

Nico raises his eyebrows as if he's wondering why Will doesn't understand something obvious. It makes Will flush, but not entirely from embarrassment. He drinks in the sight of Nico, sleepy and unguarded, blown away by how his heart feels full to bursting point at the idea Nico trusts him enough to be so open.

"Apollo's here to be punished. He doesn't want You-Know-Who catching word that he's actually having the time of his life."

Will wrinkles his forehead. "Lord Voldemort?" he asks with a wry smile.

Nico gives him a blank stare. "Huh? What are you even talking about?"

"Sorry," Will says, though he's not. Getting a rise out of Nico is his not-so-secret thrill. "It was a dumb joke." He moves his hand down to squeeze Nico's ass through the duvet. "You get me so hot and bothered it fries my brain, makes me talk like an idiot."

Nico smirks. "Don't blame your idiocy on me. Are you over your 'traumatizing' experience? I'd like to sleep a bit longer."

Will grimaces. He'd been deliberately _not_ thinking about what he'd seen. "I was pretending it hadn't happened and trying to overwrite the memory with visions of your sexy, sleepy, morning-grumpy body."

Nico's cheeks go pink, and Will can't help but push it just a little further. He leans in for a kiss, thrilled when Nico meets him halfway, despite the fact he knows he's about a second from being tossed out. He squeezes Nico's ass again, and swipes his tongue over the roof of Nico's mouth, earning a shudder as he knew he would. It's beyond exciting to find Nico's hot spots and to hit them.

Nico groans and breaks the kiss. He pushes Will's shoulders, signaling he needs to get lost. "You're a devil; you know that?" Will grins and climbs off the bed. Mission accomplished: Nico's now in the same state he was in when he woke up.

"If that makes you my angel, I have no problem with it."

He catches the pillow Nico throws at his head before it hits and laughs. "I'm going, I'm going. But you know what, di Angelo?" He tosses the pillow back on the bed.

Nico glares up at him, and stuffs his pillow back under his head.

"I know you love me because you try to hit me with a pillow instead of your fist. I'm happy to be able to claim that; not many could."

"My fist is next if you don't get moving," Nico says, though Will catches the fondness under the acerbic words. He gives Nico a flirty wink, then steps out onto the Hades cabin porch. It's really cold. He half-wishes he'd asked for his hoodie back, but Nico _would_ probably try to tear his head off if he bothered him again.

XxxX


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey, Will!" Austin calls when Will closes the Apollo cabin door behind him. "New supplies arrived from Olympus." He nudges an Amazon box with his foot and goes back to rummaging in his closet.

Will sighs and picks up the box. "Why is Olympus using the Amazons for delivery?"

Austin steps back, clutching a change of clothes to his chest. He shrugs. "I heard a rumor that Hermes is backed up or temporarily out of business or something. Not sure."

It comes back to him like he's swallowed a brick. Hermes went into hiding along with Asclepius because Zeus's blame shifted to them after Apollo got well. He doesn't envy their position.

"Right," Will says. He grabs a change of clothes for himself and the box of supplies, then heads to the big house. He'd rather shower in the infirmary than wait for the cabin shower to be free, or worse – he suppresses another shudder – to use the communal shower room. What is Apollo thinking, screwing around in public places? His face goes red when he remembers how ready he'd been to jump Nico in the Roman baths. He supposes it's just the 'parents having sex' hang up that bothers him.

The infirmary is thankfully empty. He stashes the box in the supply closet, wanting to get the sweat from his morning run off before he unpacks it, but before closing the door, he spies the stock of safety razors and shaving cream and snags one of each. He has no need to shave his face, but if he's going to look his best for Nico tonight, assuming Nico was able to get their secret shopping done, shaving his legs will make the nylon stockings feel sexier.

XxxX

Half an hour later, he looks over the inventory in the supply closet, and jots down low counts on his clipboard. He's not done a proper inventory check since returning to camp and figures now is as good a time as any. The feel of his freshly-shaven legs under his soft and worn jeans is a special kind of torture. It takes a lot of effort to focus on his task and he doesn't hear people coming into the infirmary until the closet door closes behind him with a bang as one of them is shoves the other up against it.

He's about to shout out that he's in here, before his instincts kick in. He should evaluate the situation for danger before blindly putting himself in the thick of it.

He holds his breath, listening to the muffled voices.

"Oh yeah, baby. We haven't done it in here yet."

Oh gods, it's Apollo. Will slides along the wall to the back of the closet, hitting the lightswitch off with his elbow by accident. He sinks to the floor and hugs his knees, burying his face in them, and wondering what he's done to deserve this torture.

"Mmm, I'm really hungry. Wanna grab me a sandwich and then I'll have you for dessert?"

Zephyros's voice. His teasing lilt seems to have Apollo wrapped around his finger.

"Yeah, I'll grab you one. But before, that …" There are more sounds of kissing and groping. "I want to make a baby with you. I want you to think about it and keep forgetting to mention it."

"You do realize we are both male, Apollo?" Will senses the shock underlying the teasing response.

"Yes, featherbrain. I mean ... " It sounds like Apollo's dry-humping Zephyros against the door. "I love making demigod babies. I want to bring you with me for the next one. Maybe she'll let us do her at the same time?"

Zephyros lets out a shriek of playful laughter, as if Apollo's just hit a hot spot. Will wants to die. He does _not_ need to hear this.

"You are such a devil, babe."

Apollo gives a muffled moan, like he's buried his face in Zephryros's neck. Then his voice sounds out clearly. "If that makes you my angel, I'm alright with it."

Okay, _now_ Will is really ready to die. Is he so in tune with his father that they use the same cheesy lines? Gods, how does Nico tolerate him? His cheeks burn in the dark room and he realizes he's actually glowing from embarrassment. He can see the items on the lower shelves in his own low light.

"Get lost, devil. I'll think about it, but I want that sandwich pronto."

Less than a minute later the door to the supply closet opens and Will looks up, the glow spilling out around him growing brighter.

"Sunbaby!" Zephyros says, grinning crookedly. "I thought it was you I sensed. How's your birthday going so far? In Sparta, you'd be a man today."

Will gets to his feet. He picks up the box of ambrosia and nectar and sets it on a shelf without unpacking it, then leaves the closet. His mind is so far from his birthday, he has trouble understanding the question. "Uh, yeah. Okay," he says. Zephyros raises an eyebrow, he looks only a couple of years older than Will, the same as Apollo; it's disconcerting to think about how they talk so freely about fathering children. "Uh, listen," he says, not quite sure where the words are coming from, but he needs to say them.

Zephyros cocks his head, waiting, unnaturally still.

"If you decide to do –" he swallows, "to go along with his idea. Can you make sure the woman isn't coerced into it. He uh ... He's a great guy, especially for a god, a good dad; but can you help him avoid making bad decisions?" He feels childish and a little foolish for asking, but he feels he should say something if it might prevent what happened to his mom from happening again.

Zephyros smiles like he understands, and unless Will is imagining it, goes a little pink in the face. His wings flutter behind him, sending a warm breeze ruffling through Will's hair. "Ah, you heard that, huh? I will do my best, I can promise that, but you know it would be folly to attempt to control another god's actions."

Will nods. "Right. Well, I'm just gonna –" He gestures vaguely, still a little off-balance.

Zephyros vanishes without a word, and the door to the infirmary opens.

"Hey, Kiddo!" Apollo calls from the doorway. He's holding a plate with a sandwich on it, sweeping the room with his eyes before focusing on Will. "What're you doing in here so early? Breakfast is in the dining pavilion."

"Yeah," Will says, thankful the glow he'd been putting off in the supply closet is gone. "I was just bringing a box of supplies in. I'm heading there now."

Apollo sets the sandwich on the desk and throws his arm around Will's back, gripping his shoulder. "Fifteen years old today. Wow. Happy birthday!"

It's like he's gone back in time, the way the pleasure of receiving Apollo's attention flares up inside him. He doesn't have the energy to push it away or to deny he likes it when his father recognizes him. "Thanks, Dad."

"You uh, didn't see anybody else in here this morning, did you?" He releases Will and smiles broadly, totally failing at playing cool. It's plain as day he's nervous about Will finding out about Zephyros.

Will tries to hide the fact he knows exactly what Apollo's angling for, and Apollo seems to read it in his expression. He scrubs the back of his neck, eyes tight at the corners. "Keep it on the down low, please?"

It's a request. It catches Will by surprise, but he nods his agreement right away. "I wouldn't dream of betraying you."

Apollo flashes him a bright smile. "That's my boy. Go on and eat. I'll catch up in a little while."

XxxX

The day passes in a breeze. Will's siblings do serenade him a little, but nothing like they would have if camp was in full session. They lead the year-round campers in a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday at the campfire that night while Apollo plays the harmonica and Austin beats a hand drum. Nico slips his hand in Will's back pocket and squeezes his ass; it's all he can do to not yelp in surprise.

It isn't long before curfew when Will walks Nico back to his cabin. They stand at the foot of the porch, shrouded in darkness. The rest of camp is in for the night and there's no reason to hide. Will pulls Nico flush with his body, leaning down to touch noses, arms wrapped around each other's waist.

"See you at ten?" Nico asks. The slight hitch in his breath sets of a series of shocks firing through Will's nervous system.

"Yeah," he murmurs, then steals Nico's breath with a kiss.

When they break apart, Will drops his hands to Nico's hips. "You get the … uh … supplies for tonight?"

Nico gives him a push, an impish gleam in his eyes. "Just be ready, birthday boy."

Will watches him climb the stairs, heat spreading across his cheeks like they're on fire. When the door closes behind Nico, he turns back to double check the Apollo campers are all in for the night. He's counting down the minutes until ten o'clock.

XxxX


	5. Chapter 5

Will stares up at the dark ceiling. He's had another shower, trimmed his nails, rubbed lotion on his newly-shaven legs, and now that his siblings are snoring again, his heart thunders in his ears. He swears every cell in his body is thrumming along with the beating of his heart.

It's 9:45. Close enough.

He slips out of bed, grabs his backpack, and tiptoes to the bathroom in his socks and T-shirt. He hesitates a moment, nerves getting the better of him. What if Nico's just playing along with him? What if he only agreed to do this because he thought it was what Will wanted? What if they try it and Nico isn't aroused? Gods, it would be so awkward, and then, would they be able to stay together afterwards? He's fine with the way things have been going, but this kink isn't a passing fad for him, it's hardwired into his brain, and it's really something he _needs_ to acknowledge. He doesn't know if he can be with somebody long-term that doesn't understand.

"Will, stop being ridiculous," he tells his reflection. He swallows hard and unzips the pocket of his backpack with trembling fingers. He takes out a black eye pencil and leans in close to steady himself as he lines his eyes with it.

__Nico loves you, idiot. Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. He doesn't hand his heart out to just anybody. He doesn't practice flattery, and when he said he'd like to see you dressed up, it didn't sound sarcastic in the slightest. You're getting worked up for nothing. Stupid reflexive defense mechanism.__

He stands back after finishing his other eye and studies the result. Gods of Olympus, it's been too long. He breathes out a long sigh, mind spinning back to how Nico had looked under Lou Ellen's Mist magic, when he couldn't tear his eyes off the beautiful boy made up like a rock star.

He tells himself to stop that line of thinking or he'll come in his pants before Nico even shows up.

He's just slipping on his bathrobe when Nico's voice comes from behind him. "Ready to go?"

He turns. Nico grins at at him. His eyes are lined similarly to Will's, only he's added a flourish at the outside corners that make him look almost feline.

Relief courses through him like a balm. He smiles and holds out his arms, ready to go. Without hesitating, Nico grabs the backpack and slips an arm around Will's waist. Before Will can say another word, they dissolve into the shadows.

He takes a deep breath as Nico guides him out of the darkness. They're in Hades cabin and Nico drops his pack with a thud on the hard floor.

"You alright?" Nico asks.

He chuckles, though it sounds a little forced. "I'm nervous," he admits.

Nico wets his lips, drawing his focus. "Come on." Nico's voice is softer and warmer than Will thinks he's ever heard him sound. "I've been ready to jump out of _my_ skin all day. You're not the only one who's nervous." He pulls Will across the cabin to the bathroom and stops before the door. He slips his hand under the flap of Will's bathrobe, finding his ass and squeezing it through his briefs. "Dress up clothes are in the bathroom. I'll wait for you on the bed."

His knees are going to give out, he's sure of it, but he nods. There's longing in the way Nico looks at him. He backs into the bathroom and closes the door.

There's a shopping bag on the toilet seat and a pair of black strappy heels on the floor beside it. He shudders, his dick swelling. He'd better change before it's too difficult to get the panties on.

XxxX

Nico has outdone himself. Will glances at the mirror over the sink and has to look away before he develops a Narcissus complex. The panties are tiny, cut low like a bikini. They're made of black satin, and he has no idea how, but they fit like they were tailored for him. They grip his ass in a black triangle of fabric, showcasing his cheeks so they look plump and rounded. His cock is half-hard, but despite the scant fabric, it fits comfortably angled toward his hip; even his balls are covered and supported without feeling like they're in the way. His black nylon hose rise to his thighs, gripping his skin without sagging. And the shoes. Gods, where in the world did Nico find heels in his size? He wonders how Nico even knows what size would fit him.

He takes a deep breath and opens the bathroom door, stepping out, like he's walking on a cloud. He loves the stretching sensation in his calves as he finds his center of balance. He glances down at himself, almost shocked by how sexy he is. Before, with Pollux, it had been more about sensation and the _taboo_ of the garments than about looks, but now … He looks back up and finds Nico still in his jeans, staring at him from the edge of his bed like there is nothing else to be looked at in the world. He's taken off his shirt and the scars from the werewolf gouges are still pink and shiny even in the low greenish-light from the Greek fire torches.

Will holds his head high as he crosses the room. He stops a few feet from the bed. Nico stands, devouring Will's body with his eyes. Their height difference is even more exaggerated, his head only rising to Will's chest, but there is no doubt that Nico's taking charge tonight. A jolt of need runs the length of Will's spine, expanding in his groin, and he has to bite his lower lip to keep from moaning as the panties squeeze him.

Nico walks a circle around him, and then, finally, puts his hands on Will's hips, and looks up at him.

"Circe's cunt," he swears, bringing a warm flush to Will's face. Nico grabs his hips, and then runs his hands down his legs. He drops to his knees and closes his eyes, his hands moving over the smooth lines of Will's calves to his ankles as if reading his body like braille. He straightens, standing on his knees, and presses his nose into the hinge of Will's groin. He inhales and breathes out again, making Will tremble at the hot, moist air, followed by the tickle of eyelashes against the tender skin of his inner thigh. Will threads his fingers in Nico's hair, luxuriating in the soft black strands, and Nico looks up at him again, nearly whimpering. "You look _divine._"

There's something about the way Nico says the word that sounds old-fashioned, and makes him feel as if he's eaten a bite too much of ambrosia. He can live with being called divine. He swallows a lump in his throat as Nico stands up.

XxxX

They spend the rest of the night wrapped together in satisfied bliss.

They lie together, silky-smooth legs tangling under the sheets and Nico's feather duvet pulled up to their shoulders. Nico snores softly on Will's chest, Will's arm wrapped around his back and holding onto his waist. The last thought to fly through Will's head before sleep pulls him under is rather morbid and strangely comforting. If the world was to end in the near future, he'd be okay. He's already found his Elysium.

XxxX


	6. Chapter 6

Apollo steps into the rec room, eyes passing over the ping pong table and folding chairs. There doesn't appear to be anybody there. "Zephyros?" he says, keeping his voice low.

The air shimmers and Zephyros appears. He's perched on the back of the couch, tossing a tennis ball in the air and catching it with the same hand. "Mhm?" His wings are tucked behind him, sinking into the cushions.

Apollo grins. He approaches and snatches the ball out of the air before Zephyros can catch it again. He hooks his fingers into the belt loops on Zephyros's jeans, dropping the ball on the floor. "Did you think about it? What I asked you earlier?"

Zephyros cocks his head, his eyes narrowing, then shoves Apollo so he falls on his back and settles on top of him. "I did." Zephyros runs his hands up Apollo's tank top, pushing it out of the way and feeling up his chest. Apollo chuckles.

"Hey, I'm ticklish there in this form."

"I know," Zephyros says, smirking as Apollo bats his hands away, then flips them over. Zephyros's wings vanish, and Apollo pins him to the floor with his hips and holding his wrists in place above his head.

"What's your answer?"

Zephyros purses his lips, then lifts his eyebrows. "I'm up for it. Sounds hotter than fuck."

Apollo whoops in triumph, releasing his hold on Zephyros's wrists and pumping his fist.

"But …"

Apollo pauses, mid-pump, and looks down at him, waiting.

"We only do it with full disclosure to the woman _and_ with her consent."

Apollo relaxes, smiling. Making babies is his favorite pastime, but Zephyros is his other favorite. Mixing them is going to be epic.

"And …" Zephyros says, then cringes. "I, uh … need to find a replacement for a magical garment. Is it alright if we breeze by Hecate's place on the way home?"

"What did you do?" Apollo asks. He's trying to sound stern and forceful, but really, getting what he wants takes most of the wind out of his sails.

"Hey, it was a last minute thing … and it was for a special occasion."

"Zephyros?" Apollo asks, his voice going higher pitched with second half of his name. The discomfort in Zephyros's expression makes him want to laugh.

"I don't think she'll miss them ... It's just in case ..."

"Yeah?" Apollo says, trailing his fingers up his own stomach, lifting his tank top and teasing his nipples. "And the truth is? This garment is a what?"

Zephyros wets his lips, eyes fixed on Apollo's chest. He answers in a whisper. "The last time his mother visited ... my master ..." He swallows. Apollo traces down his own chest, over his abs to the button on his jeans. "She left a couple of pairs of underwear. I tidied up afterward, and, uh ... picked them up ..."

Apollo laughs. "You stole Aphrodite's panties? I'm sure she has half a million pairs she's left all over the world, hon. I wouldn't worry about it."

Zephyros grimaces, still nervous. Apollo slips his hand down his pants, drawing the wind god's focus back again. Zephyros swallows again, his Adam's apple bobbing. "That's not all. See, Nico asked me to run a quick errand ... For sunbaby's birthday, but I got distracted with all the hot sex we were having ..."

The truth hits Apollo like a flash of inspiration, and he buries his face in Zephyros's chest. "My son's wearing her panties, isn't he?" It's stupid how cute he's finding the whole situation.

"And her shoes," Zephyros says, laughter rumbling under Apollo's ear. "But I did manage to retrieve those without a problem."

Apollo pushes himself upright, fixing a stern Zeus-esque expression on his face. "I changed my mind," he says, frowning.

Zephyros pouts. "You don't want to make babies with me anymore?"

"No. _You_ are the devil in this relationship." He stops Zephyros from making anymore smart remarks by kissing him quiet. They'll get replacement panties from Hecate, he decides. Just in case."


	7. Chapter 7

**Fulfillment**

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters and themes are the property of Rick Riordan from the world of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. I am not making any money from this work of fiction. I'm just playing around in his sandbox.

This is the third of three one-shots that take place after Shelter: 10933494/1/Shelter-A-Solangelo-Novel - I am hard at work planning the novel-length sequel. Please follow me if you want to be notified about updates! I can also be found on tumblr as Mab-speaks. Tell me what you think about my fics in reviews, pms or by tumblr ask! I'm always happy to meet new people who share the love of PJO!

XxxX

Rachel stretches, bathed in warmth. She opens sleepy eyes and lingers on the girl beside her. Reyna's face is smooth, all her worry lines erased in sleep. She radiates beauty and strength – power. Rachel can't help feel a like she falls short a lot in comparison.

_Stupid really,_ she thinks, _worrying about something so shallow. I've never cared about how I look before, why should I start now?_

She sighs, stretches, and reaches for her drawing pad. She adjusts her pillows, then leans back against them, and flips to the back pages. She's captured Reyna's sleeping face and figure many times already, learned her expressions by heart. It's easy to read the differences in each drawing and to interpret her face for nightmares and visions or when her dreams are sweeter.

Turning back to the middle pages, Rachel locates her self portraits. If she stands outside of herself and looks at them as if they weren't her, she'd say the girl the lines depict was pretty in more of a plain, earthy sort of way. But the Reyna drawings shine with the light of the divinity in her blood. She wonders what it is that Reyna sees in her. It has to be weird to be dating a girl who randomly spews green smoke from her orifices and speaks with a voice reminiscent of stale dust and cobwebs.

Rachel closes the drawing pad and puts it back on the bedside table, then sits up in lotus position. A little meditation and attitude adjustment is what Apollo would suggest. If he ever deigned to stop by anymore. She shuts her eyes. _Let's not dwell on that, Rachel. You'll never find the right chi with negative thinking._

A few minutes later, she's bathed in warmth again – an outside warmth. She opens her eyes, blinking against a bright light shining through the narrow window, too much for December. Squinting, she makes out a smiling tanned face framed with tousled blond hair.

"Apollo?"

"How's my girl?" he asks, coming into full focus. She raises her hand, shielding her eyes.

"Wanna turn down the brightness a little?" she asks, then lays right in on him – all the things she's been wanting to say to her recently quite absent patron. "Where the hell have you been anyway? We've been healed for three months and you didn't stop by once. Not that I've missed you, or anything, but really, a quarter of year is pushing it. And you need a haircut."

Apollo laughs outright. Rachel narrows her eyes at him. He looks different. He's always had a glow about him, but now he's downright radiant. And still smiling like an idiot.

"Sorry, kiddo. I've been a bit wrapped up with my new gig."

She wrinkles her forehead, not buying it. She folds her arms across her chest. "Director at Camp Half-Blood when the majority of the campers are gone for the school year? Forgive me, but with your talents, my _lord_," she adds, more out of sarcasm than deference, "I would think you'd be able to pull off those duties half-asleep."

He catches her small dig at him; she can tell by the way his eyes tighten a little at the corners, but he doesn't drop his goofy smile. He nods at Reyna, and Rachel's face floods with heat, but she's not breaking any rules. When he'd come back after the quest to free the Oracle succeeded, he'd healed the hole in her throat and given his blessing regarding their relationship. Apparently Reyna had spent a great many hours praying and sacrificing to Apollo on Rachel's behalf. It's ridiculous how far a little bit of flattery goes with him, but she forces herself to not think of Octavian and how far he'd taken Apollo for a ride with _his_ grand schemes.

Apollo's lips turn down at the corners. "You realize the Oracle you're housing is a part of me, and she can hear your thoughts?"

Rachel exhales, caught. It's best to not try to hide anything from Apollo. Unfortunately, transparency is a skill she has yet to master. _He's not my father,_ she reminds herself with a mental kick.

Meeting his eyes, she apologizes. "Sorry. I'm feeling really exposed and … in the past, I've always protected myself with my claws out, hissing and spitting. I'm doing okay. Reyna …" She can't keep from smiling a little, glancing at the beautiful sleeping girl, her dark hair spilling out from its loose braid on the pillow. "Reyna is wonderful. Thank you … for giving me permission …" All right. That's enough. If he only stopped by to see her blush, she's done enough of it to last several months.

A warm breeze passes over her face, fluffing her hair, and she's flooded with an intense arousal. It catches her so off-guard, she has to clench her teeth to keep from moaning, wondering what the hell has gotten into her. She presses her thighs together under the blankets, and just hopes Apollo doesn't notice. When she looks at him again, his face is equally flushed.

"I uh … I need to get back to camp now," he says, his voice low, making her ache with need. _Seriously, what the hell?_

"Who is that?" she demands, spotting a shimmer in the air at his side. She almost dismissed it as a trick of the light, but then his shirt lifted in a manner not keeping with the laws of nature, and her senses are heightened when she's aroused. There is _somebody_ else with them in the room. Apollo's cheeks redden, and then a man appears beside him, an angel.

She blinks again. No. A winged god. _Cupid maybe? No, he looks too smug to be a love god, too impish._

"Rachel, this is Zephyros," Apollo says. "He's the god of the West Wind."

At least he seems almost as embarrassed by his lover arousing him in her presence as she had been under his scrutiny. _Like trying on the other shoe, do you?_

Zephyros nods at her and winks.

But, she realizes all at once, _he's_ the source of Apollo's arousal, and it's Apollo's emotions rubbing off on her that has her squeezing her legs together to keep from getting the sheets damp. _What an interesting development,_ the Oracle inside her seems to be thinking. _I never thought I'd see the day Apollo bowed to a minor god._

"I'll stop by again another day, Rachel," Apollo says. "I promise we can talk shop then."

He and Zephyros disappear in a shower of gold, blowing away through the open window. As soon as they're gone, a freezing draft sweeps the room, and Rachel curses as she gets up to block it.

Climbing back under the sheets, her heart thuds against her ribcage. She looks again at Reyna's sleeping face, her fingers twitching beside her hips. They haven't had sex yet, though they have come close. She exhales long and slow, trying to cool the need pooling in her gut. It seems silly now, in this moment, all the guilty feelings, the second-guessing ruining the mood the past couple of months.

Breathing deeply, eyes closed, she slips her hand under the waistband of her underpants, just holding onto her mound, her clit throbbing, demanding attention. The scent of her arousal fills her nose. Giving in, she follows the groove of her labia with her middle finger, finding the small nub and gently stroking. She opens her eyes, speeding up, holding her breath, circling her clit with more pressure, and looks at Reyna. Stopping, her breath catches in her throat, her clit pulsing with her heartbeat against the pad of her finger. Reyna's eyes are open and focused on her face.

Rachel wets her lips, flushing, unable to break free from Reyna's fixed stare. Reyna shifts on the bed, then scoots closer, her lips twitching. She pushes Rachel's hair behind her ear. "Can I help?" Reyna's voice is rough, breathy, and it's all Rachel can do to nod, her clit pulsing again.

Rachel loses herself in Reyna's kisses, trembling as Reyna climbs on top of her, grinding against her left thigh. She slips her hands up the back of Reyna's tank top, holding onto the hard lines of her shoulder blades, heartbeat ramping up. Wet heat between Reyna's legs spreads over Rachel's thigh as Reyna grinds harder, their kisses desperate.

She gasps as Reyna works the buttons on her flannel sleep shirt open. Reyna pinches her nipple, sending small shocks through Rachel's body, waking nerve endings under her skin. Her cheeks, her scalp – she's suddenly aware of them, not sure if she's ever really _felt_ them come alive before now. That it's her body drawing Reyna's full attention, the determination to win and dominate focused on Rachel's pleasure – rather than triumphing over an enemy – is almost too much.

She sighs as Reyna kisses down her jawline, then her throat, and breasts. Reyna teases Rachel's nipple with the tip of her tongue drawing a gasp from her throat. Reyna sits upright, eyes dark and lust-blown, her dark hair spilling even more from the loose braid dangling from her shoulder.

XxxX

They collapse in a sweaty tangle of limbs, disheveled hair, and heavy breathing. Rachel can't help but smile – the grin fixed on her face. She tries to rein it in, to regain control, but it only grows, and soon she's chuckling, weighted down by Reyna's body, Reyna's face tucked into the crook of Rachel's neck.

"What's funny?" Reyna asks, pushing herself up on shaky arms. She smiles, too, as Rachel dissolves in uncontrollable giggles.

She can't help it, everything feels so good, so right. Her laughter subsides as Reyna strokes her breasts, coaxing her into relaxation.

"That was just really _really_ good." Rachel's trembling, her skin breaking out in goosebumps, and then she reaches for Reyna's face. "You're a dream come true, praetor."

Reyna closes her mouth over Rachel's lips in a soft quick kiss, and then draws back, the sweet scent of sex rising all around them. "You're more than that to me, my sweet prophetess."

Rachel blushes from her face to her feet, but with all the positive endorphins coursing through her body, she's never felt so beautiful.

**And that's it from the Shelterverse Oneshots** I'll update this note when I decide on a title for the Sequel to Shelter and begin writing it! Follow me here or at Mab-speaks on Tumblr if you don't want to miss it!


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